


Too Close for Comfort

by ria_oaks



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ria_oaks/pseuds/ria_oaks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thoros and Beric in the aftermath of the fight with the Hound. Spoilers up to 3X05 of the show. NO book spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Close for Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> First up - I've only read up to halfway through Clash of Kings, so this is purely based on the show. No book spoilers, please.
> 
> The scene between Beric and Thoros in the latest ep, when they are telling Arya about all the times Thoros has brought Beric back to life, intrigued me. I hadn't expected to have any kind of slashy feelings about these characters, who I barely know, but that scene hinted at a lot of history and I also just really loved the interplay between them. And then this fic accidentally happened. Oops? I hope it is basically in character but it's hard to know since I'm mostly just going off 1-2 scenes. But I like it anyway and I just kept writing what felt right for the scene.
> 
> I wrote this in a blur from memory so a few things don't quite match the actual episode. But they worked for the fic so I left them in:
> 
> \- I know they are apparently in a cave but I'm not sure if they are actually sleeping in there or just hanging out and then going outside to camp overnight. It didn't seem particularly large.
> 
> \- I thought I remembered Thoros's line as "I'm just the drunken fool who says the words", and I used the phrase drunken fool twice. Then I rewatched and realized he says 'lucky drunk' instead. But 'drunken fool' sounds better for the fic and I like it so I am keeping it and handwaving it.

“That was too close.”

Thoros traced the thin line of raised flesh on Beric’s left shoulder. The wound had healed over, as they always did, but it was taking longer this time. His head rested upon Beric’s breast, and he watched the flickering shadows that their solitary lamp cast against the wall of their tent. The night was quiet, the sounds of the camp around them muffled by the heavy canvas.

“No closer than any of the others,” Beric murmured, but Thoros could feel the tension in his body. His fingers continued to stroke idly over the scar. It was still red, the skin around it puckered and swollen.

“I’m tired of watching you die,” Thoros responded quietly. He angled his head to rest his chin on Beric’s sternum so he could look the other man in the eye. Beric’s face was shuttered, but the tight line of his lips softened slightly at Thoros’s words.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Beric’s mouth twitched up slightly in the hint of a wry smile. “I’ll try to stop, if it makes you feel better.”

“See that you do. One of these days, death is going to stick and even the Lord of Light won’t be able to bring you back. I’d rather not be around to see that day.”

Beric let out a huff of laughter. “If you’re not there, who will say the words to bring me back? I’ll have to find another drunken fool I suppose.”

“This isn’t a joke, Beric! This is your life we’re talking about. A life I happen to be rather attached to.” Thoros flattened his hand out over the scar and pressed Beric’s shoulder down into the bed. It was foolish, he knew, to believe he could hold Beric in this life with the press of his hand, but it comforted him nonetheless. Here in this tent, at least, they were safe and Beric was his.

“As am I, my dear Thoros, as am I.” Beric drew him up and placed a light kiss on his lips. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Anyway, you were the one making the jests earlier tonight, if you recall.”

“Easier to laugh about it than face the truth, I suppose. Also I was drunk. I’m your drunken fool, remember?” 

“You are much more than that, my friend.” Beric smiled and ran his fingers down Thoros’s back.

“Just remember, you’re not invincible.” Thoros reached up and brushed a knuckle over Beric’s eyepatch. “Next time it may be the other eye, and then where will you be? The Lord of Light may bring back your life, but not your eyesight it seems. Or it may be your head like our dearly departed Lord Stark, and we both know how that will end.”

“True enough.” Beric let out a sigh. “I wish I could have given the Stark girl the news she wanted, but you were right. It doesn’t work that way. And I would not curse another man with this fate of mine.”

“She was right about one thing, though. You’re still alive.” Thoros lay his head back down on Beric’s chest and moved his hand to rest over the steady thump of the other man’s heart.

“Aye, that I am. I suppose that’s something.” Beric was silent for a moment, then he reached over and snuffed out the lamp beside their bedroll. The tent went dark, now lit only by the faint glow of the moonlight outside. “We should sleep. It will be a long march tomorrow.”

“And the day after that, and the next day too. Damn the Lannisters, and damn the Baratheons and the Tyrells and all the others. Sometimes I wish we could just leave, take the next ship to the Free Cities and be done with this whole mess.”

Beric chuckled, but there was no humour in his voice. “No you don’t, no more than I do. We must see this through to the end, whatever may come.”

“As long as it doesn’t end with your head on a Lannister pike in King’s Landing.” Thoros shifted into a more comfortable position and drew the covers up over them. The night chill was permeating through the walls of the tent and he shivered. Summer truly had ended, though he could not entirely blame the coming winter for the chill that went through him. Damn the Starks too, and that godforsaken saying of theirs.

“Nor your head, let’s hope. Rest now, it’s late.” He placed a kiss on the top of Thoros’s head. Thoros closed his eyes, focusing on the sounds of Beric breathing beneath him and letting himself relax gradually. 

“Good night,” he whispered. Another night with them both alive. Silently, he sent a prayer to the Lord of Light. _Keep him safe. And bring him back to me, if he insists on dying again. Please._ With those words on his lips, whispered noiselessly against Beric’s skin, he drifted slowly into sleep.


End file.
